Scarface
by Ashley-the-Weirdo
Summary: Kendall Knight, a struggling musician, has to live with a face deformity from a bar fight for the rest of his life, leaving him being a social outcast. Logan Mitchell, a medical student, has been living without using legs for his whole life, using a wheelchair to get around. What happens when their two worlds abruptly collide? (Slash, Kogan, AU)
1. Bars & Scars

**Author's Note:** New story when I have three others I haven't finished. Sorry, but I just need to find my muse for those stories before I can start working on them again. Don't hate me! Any who, this will be my first Kogan story. I know it'll seem like a Kenlos story at first, but trust me, it'll be Kogan eventually. Hope you enjoy!

**Carlos' POV**

"Ma'am, the long bar on the keyboard of your laptop is called a space bar, you know that thing that spaces out words when you're typing something?"

I rolled my eyes at the lady on the other line of the phone. I was currently working my at - home five hour shift as a tech support for a computer company. This job makes me realize just how dumb people are. As a video gamer and tech nerd, I know a lot about computers. This isn't my dream job, but hell, it pays the rent.

My dream job is to be a video game designer, working alongside some of the best in the business. From Mario Kart, to Tomb Raiders, to Black Ops, I'm a video game champ. My roommate Kendall has seen that first hand. That's always been my dream, even though my parents never supported it.

My dad wanted me to graduate high school, go to college, get a law or doctorate degree so he can have bragging rights on me, and make millions. My vision of how I thought my life should be completely clashed with his vision of how it should be. Truth be told, I HATED school. It was full of freaks, nerds, annoying ass teachers, and rotten lunch. Plus, I was never the top kid in my class. I made solid C's my whole high school career. As soon as I turned eighteen and barely graduated, I had made up my mind that I'd rather work a nine to five job for the rest of my life then go to college. Needless to say, my dad was pissed and refused to support me anymore financially unless I followed his vision. So, I moved out. A close friend of mine let me stay with him free of charge for some months and I got hired for the job as a tech support soon after. It took a shitload of persuasion to convince the boss to hire an eighteen year old kid with only a high school education, but I knew my stuff about computers and he desperately needed someone to fill the position. He gave me a shot. I didn't get the biggest check, but I needed to start saving up money because I wouldn't be able to stay with my friend forever.

Then came along Kendall. We met when he and his band, "Flaming Arrows", played a gig at a club that I went to frequently. They sounded pretty good, I told him that when they got off stage, and it ended up sparking a conversation. I explained to him my life story, and surprisingly, his was vaguely similar. He hated school as well, and dropped out when he was seventeen to pursue a music career with his band. His mother wasn't supportive of that at all, and wouldn't let him stay with her unless he finished school. Just like me, he moved out. The band hadn't hit the big time yet, but they were working on it. He said he was looking for a roommate, and I immediately jumped at the offer.

Now here I am, twenty one years old, working as a tech support, with absolutely no idea where I want to go in life. I haven't completely given up on my dream yet. I send my video game design demos to major video game companies hoping that maybe one day, someone will give me a shot. Until then, I'm stuck trying to teach dumbasses how to change their wallpaper on their computer.

Kendall and I have become really close since we've become roommates. His band eventually broke up, so he had to get a job at the groovy smoothie up the street from where we live. Not a glamorous job, but it pays the rent. He still hasn't given up on his dream, either. He plays small gigs by himself every now and then on the weekends at, "The Dirty Anchorman", a club downtown.

After spending twenty minutes on the phone explaining what every single fucking key on the keyboard does to this lady, she finally hung up. I sighed and rested my head on my cheap desk I got from the thrift store for thirty bucks. Will I ever be able to live out my dream and get out of this place? As of right now, all signs seemed to be pointing to no, and the thought alone made me depressed. That was the last phone call of the day and I dragged my feet to the couch, curling up in a huge, wool blanket. All I wanted to do was mope and eat ice cream. I got like this whenever I thought what the future may hold.

Out of nowhere, Kendall busted through the front door holding two cups of smoothies. He had a huge grin plastered on his face, like always. Kendall has always been an optimist. He never really has "bad days" because he's always moving forward. It made me somewhat envious of his personality.

"I'm home motherfucking best friend! I got you a smoothie, man." Kendall pretty much sang the words, throwing his work apron on the floor carelessly. Kendall was a bit of a slob, and it pissed me off to no end sometimes. I decided not to say anything and just focused on my thoughts. Kendall must've noticed my odd behavior because he set the smoothie down on the coffee table, and plopped down on the couch.

"What the fuck is up with you?"

I sat in silence.

"So, you wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Dude, you don't have to always be so down in the dumps about everything. I know you, and I know that you're worried about the future and shit, but you just gotta let nature take its course. It'll work out."

"Will you just shut up? I don't wanna talk about it, ok?"

"I'm just saying, when you get all depressed and shit, you crawl under that ugly ass blanket, get all quiet, and it just ain't natural."

I lost it. I stood up, threw the blanket off me, and got in his face.

"NATURAL? YOU WANT NATURAL? NOTHING IN OUR LIVES IS NATURAL RIGHT NOW! SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST TAKE YOUR SKINNY LITTLE ASS INTO YOUR ROOM, JERK OFF TO PORNHUB, AND-"

I was cut off by a pair of soft lips connecting with mine. My little temper tantrum seemed to evaporate immediately. The kiss was short and sweet before he pulled away. I sighed and curled up into the blanket again.

"I hate you, Kendall." Kendall let out a soft laugh.

"Works every motherfucking time. But anyway, how about you and I hit the clubs tonight?"

"Naw, I think I'll just hang out here, watch a movie or something."

"Suit yourself. Be back later motherfucking best friend!" Kendall grabbed a jacket, and zoomed out the door. Ugh, I don't know what I'm gonna do with that boy…

_**-Line Break-**_

**Kendall's POV**

I walked into the club I had been to dozens of times as I was hit with the familiar scent of sweat and booze. I got an empty seat at the bar and ordered my usual Bloody Mary. A couple of girls were checking me out from the dance floor, and I already knew I'd probably get some tonight, whether it is from a guy or girl.

A chick with jet black hair, stunningly blue eyes, and a curvaceous figure was the first to approach me. She batted her eyelashes at me flirtatiously.

"Hey."

"Sup little lady."

"I'm Debbie." She said moving closer to the stool I was sitting on, all while leaning over just enough to show a bit of cleavage.

"Kendall."

"Kendall. Cute name for a cute guy." She stated caressing my arm gently.

"Yeah, well I-"

A big beefy dude came out of nowhere and roughly grabbed onto her shoulders. His arm was full of tattoos and looked like a thug fresh out of prison.

"What do you think you're doing, you slut? Trying to run away from me, huh? Yeah, well we'll see about that." He said, dragging the girl away. She looked absolutely petrified and I decided to step in. I pulled her away from him, and he turned around towards me looking pissed.

"Ay man, just chill, alright? I don't want any tro-" Before I knew it, I was flying back towards the bar and was bleeding from my nose. He had punched me, and I felt my face turn red.

"You motherfcker."

I ran back towards him at full speed and punched him back with all my might. After regaining his balance, he turned towards me, clutching a broken bottle in his hand.

"You're gonna regret doing that."

"Whoa, man I-"

He swung the bottle towards my face, effectively creating three, deep slits right across my face. I stared at the blood dripping from my face for a few moments before I went off. By the time I was done, he was lying on the bar floor unconscious, while I was clutching my sore hand which was dripping with his blood. People in the bar were staring at the scene with wide and horrified eyes. Two guys had to pull me away to get me to stop beating the shit out of him.

"I just…Fuck, I gotta get home."

I ran home with blood still dripping from the slits in my face. I unlocked the door and was greeted with the sight of Carlos still wrapped up in his blanket watching his favorite movie of all time, The Wizard of Oz.

"Damn Kendall. Must've not have been any hot chicks at the bar. You never come home this – WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?"

"Bro, relax. It's not that big of a deal."

"Kendall. Your face is messed up! Those are definitely gonna scar! What the fuck did you do?" He said, leaning his hand out to touch my face. I quickly pushed his hand away.

"Don't touch me Carlos!"

"Kendall, I just-"

"DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"

Carlos had a hurt look on his face before he softened up his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Carlos, I…" I broke down and pulled him into a tight hug.

"I messed up man."

**Author's Note:** If no one likes this, I won't continue it. Kendall and Carlos' relationship is a bit…complicated, but it'll be explained over time. Love it? Hate it? Please let me know in the reviews! If people enjoy this story, you'll meet Logan next chapter. Reviews are greatly appreciated! - Ashley


	2. A Little Make - Up Goes a Long Way

**Logan's POV**

I sighed, rolling over onto my stomach in my bed, and covered my head with my pillow. I glanced quickly at the clock.

_1:32 AM._

I tried to block out the blaring rock music that was coming from the dorm room across from mine. James was probably throwing one of his infamous parties. Again.

I had class in the morning, and I desperately needed sleep. Sometimes, James' parties could last until four in the morning, so I knew I had to do something. I clapped my hands together, and on came the lights. Adjusting my eyes to the bright light, I forced myself to sit up and maneuver my way to my wheelchair, which was right by my bed. I got my robe from the bed post, and threw it on.

My room is quite huge. When I had made my decision to go to UCLA, the chancellor, Mrs. Wainwright, couldn't have been more helpful. She assigned me a room by myself so I could have enough space to wheel myself around. She even gave funds to make the whole room handicap accessible.

I wheeled myself out the room, across the hall, and right in front of the James' door. I doubted anyone would hear my knock, so I just went in. I was greeted with the sight of at least one hundred people jam packed into one room. The lights were dim and the music was deafening. Red solo cups were on the floor, people were grinding against one another, and I saw a cloud of smoke coming from the bathroom. From the smell, I would guess it was weed.

I spotted James making out with some blonde chick in the corner of the room. Shouting excuse me's every now and then, I somehow managed to make it over to him without harm. The chick looked like she was trying to devour his face, so I gently tugged on the hem of his shirt. He opened his eyes, noticed the glare on my face, and pushed the girl away. She wined in protest.

"We'll finish in a second, k Brit? Just wait for me in my room." She nodded and headed off in whatever direction. James was grinning wildly at me.

"Surprised to see you here, Loges! Want a drink?"

"No, I want you to turn this damn music down. It's like two in the morning! We BOTH have class at 8:00."

"Chill, dimple face. Who said I planned on going to class tomorrow morning? You of all people know I'm not a morning person."

"Aren't ALL your classes in the morning time?"

"Exactly."

"How do you plan on graduating if you never go to class?"

"Easy. I'll sleep with the teachers. How do you think I even got in to UCLA in the first place? Unlike you, I made straight C's in high school."

"James, I worry about your sanity. Anyway, will you at least turn the music down so I can get some rest?"

"Sure thing, bud. Nice SpongeBob PJ's by the way."

I pulled my robe more tightly around my body as I blushed. Maybe at least now I can catch some Z's.

_**-Line Break-**_

**Kendall's POV**

I looked into the mirror of the bathroom, and stared into my own eyes. Carlos was right. The slits scarred and left three, scabby sideway stripes across my face. It had been a week since the accident, so they were starting to heal. The bleeding had stopped enough so that I could take off the bandages for a while.

I've never been the type of person that thought appearance was everything. I've always been a happy go lucky kid who judged people for what's on the inside. Apparently, I was the only person who thought like that.

When I took the bandage off and walked outside for the first time, people would just stare at my face. I've never been a person to really care what people thought, but this made me a bit self-conscious. People would shy away from me when I'd walk by them on the sidewalk, guitar in tow. They acted like I was a freak or something.

It was hard for me. People looked at me differently. Just because of my fucking face. So, I did what I had to do.

_**-Line Break-**_

**Carlos' POV**

Kendall's been in the bathroom all morning, and I'm a little worried. He's been so fucking depressed all week because of how people looked at him. I felt bad for the poor guy.

I decided to pause my video game, and went to take a peek to see what the hell he was up to. His head was hanging down and he was holding a black brush in his hand. Was that…makeup? He looked up into the mirror, caught a glimpse of my reflection, and smirked. I still couldn't see his face.

"Hey motherfucking best friend! So, I figured it all out and shit, how to make people not fucking afraid of me no more, and…"

He swiftly turned towards me with a grin on his face.

"Ta-da!"

My jaw dropped in shock. His whole face was…orange. I assumed it was from some sort of make-up item. It was a very noticeable contrast to the rest of his body which was still his natural, pale skin tone. You couldn't see the scars anymore, and he was standing there waiting for my response.

"Uhh…you're orange…Why?"

"You don't get it? No scars!"

He went out to the "Dirty Anchorman" again that night to play a show. He said people still looked at him weirdly, but this time, it wasn't with fear.

And he was happy with just that.

**Author's Note:** Short chapter, I know. But, we're making progress! Sorry if this was kind of boring. More Logan in the next chapter, promise! By the way, all the characters in this story live in California, alright? Reviews make me happy! - Ashley


	3. Why is his face orange?

***Note: **_Italics = Flashback/Thoughts_*

**Logan's POV**

_Agoraphobia: An extreme fear of being in public places or open spaces from which escape may be difficult or embarrassing._

_Amygdala: The part of the limbic system that controls emotion, aggression, and the formation of emotional memory._

_Bipolar Cells: Nerve cells that-_

_Who the hell comes up with these words? _

I ran both my hands through my hair, groaning in frustration as I gave a poor attempt at studying. I was sitting at my huge, mahogany, paper cluttered desk in my dorm room and was about to rip my hair out. Mr. Bitters, my English teacher, had given us a list of vocabulary words that we were to study and memorize for a quiz by this Friday. There were at least one hundred fucking vocabulary words, and did I mention today was Wednesday? Mr. Bitters is the toughest teacher I've ever had. His last name suits him with his "I don't give a shit" attitude and his unwillingness to make life easy for his students. Between the weekly 5,000 word essays he assigns us to write, huge multi-chaptered books he makes us read, and the hundreds of vocab words he tells us to memorize, it's a blessing I'm even passing his class. Of course, school has never really been that big of a challenge for me.

I decided to just give up studying for a while and take a well-deserved break. A slight headache was forming right between the temples in my forehead and the surface of my desk suddenly looked quite comfortable. I folded my arms onto the desk, rested my head down, and closed my eyes. I was just about to doze off…

And because I'm just _so _damn lucky, James came busting through the door like he was the police.

"Guess who just scored a full bottle of Gin for thirty bucks?" James said triumphantly, holding up a clear bottle of alcohol with a proud grin on his face. I turned my head towards him slightly, glancing at the offensive liquid, and shook my head. I didn't even possess the energy to give James the speech I've given to him a thousand times already: My infamous, "Drugs and alcohol are a gateway to early death" speech.

"James, I'm gonna ask you just once, ok? Please get the fuck out of my room with that crap before I figure out a way to run you over with my wheelchair."

James just snorted in laughter, inviting himself to sit on the edge of my bed. He popped the cork out of the bottle with his teeth, spitting it onto my floor. He took a quick swig before setting it beside my head on the desk.

"Come on Mr. Grumpy Ass. College is about making memories. What's more memorable than getting drunk with your best friend on a Wednesday night? Well, besides when Camille got drunk at a party and went late night streaking, but still. Lighten up Loges, we're not old and wrinkly yet. Damnit, live a little."

"Well excuse me for ACTUALLY caring about my grades and studying like a normal fucking college student instead of partying and getting wasted every night."

James retrieved the bottle back, figuring I wasn't going to drink any, and shrugged his shoulders.

"You're excused." He stated with a sly grin on his face, downing half the bottle in five minutes. I growled to myself at his ignorance, wheeling myself towards my door.

"Where you going?"

"Anywhere you aren't."

Rolling down the hallway, into the elevator, and out of my school, I honestly had no idea where I was even going. As long as I was away from James, I figured I'd be alright.

James has been my best friend since Kindergarten. Even back then he was a lazy, loud mouthed, popular, chick magnet. On the other hand, I was that quiet, timid, reserved little boy that always played by himself in the corner. I was the only one that used a wheelchair in my class, so I was pretty much the freak with nubs for legs to the other little ones. They used to tease me endlessly on a daily basis, until one day, James stood up for me when I was too afraid to do it myself. He stuck by my side all through elementary, middle, and high school. He's my best friend, even though he can definitely be a fucktard sometimes. I still appreciate him for being there for me whenever I needed someone, even when he starts working on my last nerve.

The only thing that helped me through school besides James was my smarts. People seemed to think that just because I was physically challenged, I must've been mentally challenged too, but oh boy did I prove them wrong. Between my straight a's all throughout my school career and my valedictorian speech, somewhere along the way I know I proved someone who doubted me wrong. And the smug feeling I get from knowing that always places a grin on my face.

It kind of makes me sad as well, though. It just sucks that my mom was never able to see her son rise above his challenges before she died. As her first and only born child, I know she loved me. She was a beautiful young woman who had me at about the early age of eighteen. My uncle always told me how much she believed in me, and how she was confident that I would grow up to be someone important one day, unlike her. Unfortunately, my mother was a serious drug addict. She slept with so many men for money that to this day, I still have no clue who my father is. One day during the first grade while I was at school, she overdosed on a bottle of antidepressants. I was devastated of course. Whether people saw my mother as a slut, or a druggie, I still loved her. I still keep a picture of her and me in my wallet everywhere I go. In the photo, she's smiling down at a three year old me playing with some toy trucks.

My Uncle Eli ended up receiving full custody of me when she died. He's the oddest man I've ever known in my entire life. He's the type of guy that'll state the most random science facts in the most impromptu places. He never married, and never had kids of his own. It wasn't like he was a bad looking guy, or that he wasn't a gentleman. It just…never happened. Whenever I asked him about that, he just shrugs me off.

I was basically just rolling down the sidewalk, lost in deep thought. Would mom be proud of me if she were still alive? I mean, academically I'm at the top of the food chain, but it's not like I have any real friends beside James. My uncle told me my mother was always the life of the party. Maybe she wanted a child that was more socially active, like James. What if I was just more of a burden than a blessing? It's already expensive trying to raise a baby who is fully healthy, but just imagine having to raise one who needed extra accommodations, etc. What if I'm just overthinking? What if I-

My thoughts were cut off by a melodic tune being played on a guitar. I looked around and finally noticed my surroundings. I was at the park entrance. Farther away, I could see the back of a blond haired boy's body, which looked lanky. As I wheeled myself closer, I slowly began to recognize the tune. It was "Creep" by RadioHead. He seemed like quite a skilled player, and I glided along the stone pathway, stopping near his bench. I still couldn't see his face, but I did notice a few tattoos around his upper arms. I grabbed my wallet out of my front pocket, snatching a couple of dollar bills out, and tossed them into his open guitar case. Before I could turn around without being noticed by the young man, he lifted his head up, catching my gaze. His eyes were the most entrancing green color. My eyes stood wide open in fear that if I blinked, he may vanish. His hands had stopped moving on his guitar, and he shot me a sly grin, which caused the sides of his eyes to crinkle in the most adorable way. It felt like some cheesy scene from a chick flick. I slowly began to take in the rest of the features on his face before I furrowed my eyes in confusion at the notice of an important factor.

Why was his face orange?

**Author's Note:** I'm alive! Between school, a part time job, and family, I sometimes just don't have the energy to write. Although, I promise I haven't forgotten you guys! I'm soooo sorry if this chapter was kind of sucky, and maybe even slightly depressing, but at least now we can get to some more character development. I honestly don't know if there will be Jarlos in this as well, but who knows? Don't hate me if this sucked because the last thing I want to ever do is disappoint you guys. Ohp, one last thing! I'm not the best writer in the whole wide world, and I also don't have a Beta, so I'm sorry if my grammar or word structure are sometimes a bit off. If you guys have any feedback, comments, or constructive criticism, lemme know in the reviews! They really do make my day, and encourage me to write more. On that note, I bid all you lovelies farewell! - Ashley


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